


Girl on Fire

by artificialashley



Series: GMN Universe [2]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F, Lesbian AU, University AU, british au, cinderella but 2020, monet is a confident bitch, nina is shy and awkward, theyre perfect together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24515989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artificialashley/pseuds/artificialashley
Summary: Nina finally starts to believe she is more than just a sidekick in other people’s fairy tales. Only her dream night is cut short when she is dragged away by her drunk best friend as soon as the clock strikes one-thirty. Monet is sick of pining after her straight best friend and thinks she’s finally found someone who steals her heart away. However, she doesn’t have any idea what her name is.
Relationships: Monét X Change/Monique Heart, Monét X Change/Nina West
Series: GMN Universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771708
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Girl on Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun writing this and hope you guys enjoy - think of it as Cinderella in 2020. It is set in the same universe as Got My Number (Branjie fic) however you do not have to have read that to read this. Would love any comments/feedback/concrit anyone has. Big thanks to Meggie for betaing this like a legend. Hope everyone is as well and as safe as they can be in these current times xoxo

It was safe to say that Nina had been placing her friends’ needs above her own for a long time. She didn’t know when it had started; be it the time she let Brooke swap roles with her last-minute before their drama exam in school, or every time she'd acted as a false alibi for Yvie during her secret rendezvous with a private school girl from the other side of the town, but it had been happening for a while.

This wasn’t something she felt guilty about, not something she would change for the world. Only every now and again the tiniest part of her brain wondered why she couldn’t be the one to have the  _ Disney  _ princess storyline, why she was always stuck as the bumbling sidekick, there to push forward someone else's narrative. That was how she usually ended off feeling on nights out.

With Brooke sloppily dancing with a boy to her right and Yvie’s mind clearly elsewhere, Nina figured she might as well accept that this night wouldn’t be spent exactly how she’d pictured and try to enjoy it nonetheless.

“I’m gonna get another drink, you want anything?”

“I’m alright.” Yvie nodded, clearly distracted. “I might head back soon, anyway.”

Looking back to Brooke and the boy, a lilt of panic rose in Nina’s body. She knew her friend was a grown girl who could look after herself. But that didn’t falsify the universally acknowledged fact that when Brooke Lynn Hytes began to toss her hair and sway her hips, no one was safe. “Wait ‘til I’m back, though?”

“Of course,” Yvie responded, adding a thumbs up for good measure.

With that Nina made her way to the bar, trying her hardest to be speedy whilst still polite, something that was almost a kamikaze mission on nights like that. Despite her taller and broader frame, she’d always struggled to worm her way to the front of the bar, scared of hurting anyone near her and trying her best to remain patient.

Her foot tapping against the floor without thought, a wave of relief washed over her when a bartender beelined her way.

“A single vodka lemonade please,” she smiled to the man, holding the exact amount of change in her hand ready. 

To her surprise, she heard a laugh to her left. A deep throaty laugh, the kind that required someone's head to fall back to escape.

That’s when she saw her.

Monet.

“Make that a double,” the girl's voice flanked down the bartender, smooth like honey. “With  _ Red Bull _ . None of that lemonade bullshit. And one for me too.”

It wasn’t a secret that Nina had had a crush on the girl for a while. Or at least not to her friends. 

It had started in year 13, when their sixth form decided to make some promotions, placing posters on the front gates, on roundabouts and even on buses around the town - Monet’s bright smile and warm brown eyes adorning every single one.

_ “Doesn’t Bob’s sister look just like her?” Yvie pointed at the poster as they made their way out the gates, on route for their daily meal deal. _

_ “I know right!” Brooke added. “They could be twins.” _

_ But Nina didn’t really agree, stopping in her tracks. “Look at her eyes, they’re much bigger than Bob’s. And her cheekbones, Bob’s face is more round. Look at her lips...” She trailed off for a moment. “She’s beautiful.” _

_ Brooke and Yvie turned their heads to face her in synchronisation, realising the same thought. _

_ “I’m not saying Bob isn’t pretty,” Nina panicked, afraid that she had been rude about the kind and bubbly girl that everyone in her year adored. “I just meant—” _

_ “We know what you meant.” Yvie grinned with every muscle in her face. _

_ “Nina and Monet, sitting in a tree—” Brooke started to sing and wave her arms in the air, only to be interrupted mid-stride after being swatted with a plastic folder full of literature coursework. _

_ “We don’t even know her!” Nina turned to them, a blush starting to seep through her pale cheeks. “You can’t fancy someone you don’t know.” _

_ She didn’t need Brooke or Yvie to tell her that wasn’t true. _

“Oh,” Nina turned to face her, lost for words being an understatement to how she felt.

“Sorry,” Monet laughed, looking her up and down in a way that made Nina’s body tremble. “I wasn’t going to let a girl stand and wait anxiously for  _ so _ long to order a single vodka lemonade, not on my watch.”

Before Nina could think of how to respond, the bartender had returned with their drinks, Monet handing him over a note and taking them, sliding one in Nina’s direction.

Nina found herself in awe almost of the other girl’s confidence. 

“Thank you,” she managed to muster after taking a sip, the sweet tang of the drink giving her a shock, her hand automatically raising to her mouth.

“Oh,” Monet tilted her head and pointed a finger. “You’re one of them.”

“One of who?” Nina looked around confused, paranoia racing through her veins, only dissolving once she felt Monet’s hand touch her arm. Nina wondered if maybe a flame burned inside Monet’s ribcage where her heart should have been, heat radiating from the girl’s hands and eyes, from the entirety of her curvy frame.

“One of those pretty girls who just stands with a drink and doesn’t dance. The boring ones.”

And for a moment Nina forgot about it all. She forgot about how drunk Brooke was across the dancefloor, she forgot about how distracted Yvie had been acting. She forgot about her worries, her nerves, her usual hesitation. She forgot there were other people on the planet as she watched the girl she had crushed on for the longest time light up the night around them.

“I think you’re wrong,” Nina spoke softly, finishing the rest of her drink in record time. 

She didn’t know if her heart was beating fast because of the girl or the drink. But either way, it was telling her that if she didn’t let those arms hold her it would jump right out of her chest and onto the sticky floor below. 

And so she did, swaying to the music in time with Monet, letting the girl's hands wander around her waist.

“Can I touch your hair?” Nina whispered, almost too quiet for Monet to hear.

Suddenly, she remembered seeing the girl eating on the grass once when the sun was out and shining. How she’d watched as her friend attempted a cartwheel and failed, Monet throwing her head back with laughter, her curls dropping down and almost touching the grass below them.

Monet nodded in response, Nina slowly and gently running her hands through the locks, smooth against her skin.

That’s when she felt Monet’s body inch in closer to her own, Nina seeing the purple sparkle on her eyelids briefly before shutting her own and leaning forwards.

She could feel the flame inside Monet make its way into her own body too, burning the whole floor that surrounded them. One word, one name running circles around her brain. Her lips felt familiar like Nina was simply coming home from a trip away. They moved together just perfectly, an equal balance of pressure back and forth.

Nina’s eyes opened for a second as she watched Monet pull away, a big, bright, and beautiful grin plastered on her face. Before she could take it in anymore she was pulled back into the fire, immersed in its embers, the outside world fading away to ash and dust around her.

Maybe she was more than the sidekick for one night.

That was until someone called the emergency services and the fire was extinguished.

That someone being Brooke Lynn Hytes.

She didn’t process it at first, the voice that was crying out being filtered out of her thoughts to focus on anything and everything Monet. But when she heard it again, Nina couldn’t help but double-take.

“You can’t kick me out! I’ve been coming here since I was fifteen, you nonces!”

Nina’s jaw dropped in horror as she saw her best friend being carried by two bouncers who’s heads almost touched the ceiling. Silently cursing at Yvie, she looked back and Monet, the red lipstick that was previously the definition of precision now smeared around her lips like a crime scene.

“I have to go.”

“Oh. Okay.” Monet frowned at her. “Can I get you on Snap? My phone’s dead, though. I’ll add you back as soon as I’m home.”

“Yeah,” Nina grinned, her mind taken away from her mess of a best friend for a split second to bask in what was happening. Only for her joy to plummet when she reached into her bag and pulled out an assortment of eyeliners and lip glosses instead of her phone. Her mind flashed back a few hours before when Brooke was only at her happy-drunk stage and had insisted on taking some cute photos of them on Nina’s phone (having the best camera, of course), realising that her phone was, in fact, being carried out of the club in Brooke’s pocket as she spoke.

“Shit,” she looked back and forth between her bag and Monet as if it would appear by magic if she wished hard enough. Knowing she needed to hurry to her friend, she quickly grabbed Monet’s wrist and began scribbling across it with her eyeliner, giving her hand a quick squeeze before running off in the opposite direction to find Brooke.

She could have sworn her lips were still tingling by the time she'd caught up.

“Nina!” Brooke cried from her seat in the smoking area, throwing her hands in the air to hug her best friend, only for them to flop back down dead-weight at her sides when they didn’t reach.

“Please can you get her out of here?” The bouncers turned to face Nina, leaving her petrified like a school kid who’d been caught skipping lessons. 

Nina’s motherly side came to fruition as she tried to convince Brooke to come home with her, secretly thinking about how long she could make fun of her for being in this state. She decided on at least until the Easter holidays were over, all the way up until Summer at a push.

Eventually, the light at the end of the tunnel began to emerge; Nina managing to convince Brooke to make her way home. The only problem was that she didn’t want to do so with Nina.

“You’re not coming with me, I want you to go in there and get yourself a shag. I know you fancy Bob’s sister. Do it for me, Nina, I’m living through you!”

Her cheeks turning a brighter red than the lipstick that was smothered around her mouth ( _ Monet’s _ lipstick smothered around her mouth), Nina found herself both mortified and joyed at her friend’s words, a part of her bursting with excitement at the fact she’d finally managed to kiss the girl that always caught her eye but also embarrassed at Brooke’s choice of crude words and inability to lower the volume of her voice.

“I’m coming with you, just let me find Yvie.”

“Nooooooo.” Brooke protested as if she were being asked to go home with a criminal trying to kidnap her rather than her best friend of ten years.

That was when a gravelly voice appeared next to her, a familiar voice she had spent years trying to imitate, never fully being able to capture just how unique it was.

Oh, how she had missed spending time with Vanessa.

Nina had never been one to pick sides, always wanting to be friends with everyone as best as she could be, but it seemed that had been impossible since the infamous breakup plagued their group earlier that year. She understood why Vanessa had cut her and Yvie out of her life, knowing that they would only be a constant reminder of the past but she couldn’t help but long that their group of six was just that again. And seeing the way Vanessa was looking at Brooke gave her a sneaking suspicion that she was not alone in those thoughts.

Content that Vanessa would be able to talk sense into Brooke ten times better than she would, Nina retrieved her phone and checked the time. The club didn’t close for another thirty minutes. Her heart almost skipped a beat and she realised she had a whole thirty minutes to feel Monet’s hands around her waist, their lips pressed together with varying pressure, releasing waves of latent heat into the disco lights above.

Only in the sea of heads bopping to the music, one set of dark curls was nowhere to be seen.

***

“So tonight’s not the night then?” Monet felt Anthony speak close to her ear, his gaze cast to Monique, who they could hear giggling as she attempted to re-tie the back of Asia’s bodysuit, her drunk coordination and false nails making the tying of a bow as hard as neuroscience for her.

“No night is the night.” Monet rolled her eyes at her friend.

As much as she loved him and admired his ability to want to address issues head-on, she had to admit that he was sometimes just a pain in the arse. And a shit-stirrer. He was also a really big shit-stirrer.

“Whatever you say.” He held his hand up in defence, grabbing Monet’s wrist and dragging her over to the other half of their foursome.

Only her attempt to get lost in the music failed as soon as Monique grabbed her hands, twirling her around and playing like they usually did. 

Growing up in Britain to a Caribbean family, Monet had fought hard to fight off the bad stereotypes and embrace the good ones that came her way. She had never thought the one that would plague her the most would be pining after her straight best friend, yet here she was, dreading the moment that the repetitive playlist would remix into Flo Rida’s  _ Low _ and she’d have to let the stunning girl touch her as if it was no big deal at all.

She decided it might just be better after all if she went to the bar once the familiar beat began to play, figuring that alcohol would work as a good enough distraction.

Only once she arrived there, she found one that was much, much more promising.

It annoyed her at first, the incessant tapping of the girl’s shoe so loud she could hear it in the busy club. But then she looked at the legs attached to the tapping feet and the torso attached to those legs and the face attached to the torso and Monet suddenly felt much more forgiving.

She seemed the opposite of Monique, her body thick and her skin pale. Her mannerisms showed a shy, reserved girl, unlike the one that turned everything into a production, unlike the girl she had found herself longing to kiss for months on end.

Monet would have given her the world and more. But she instead settled for a drink.

The  _ perfect _ distraction.

It wasn’t until they began to dance that Monet realised how different she was to her hookups of the past, finding something endearing in her nervous nature. Normally she’d find herself cringing at someone’s bad dancing, but the way the girl stomped only made Monet want to pull her in closer, seeing something in the girl's smile that made her feel like she’d known her a lifetime. Never on a night out had she felt so invested, so unaware of her surroundings, unaware of Monique. 

Usually, kisses in the club were sloppy, too much tongue and touching. This time was different, the girl asking politely if she could touch Monet’s hair (Monet wanted to tell her she could pull it as much as she liked but refrained with fear or sounding too eager). Her lips were soft and gentle; Monet may have just let a small moan escape from her mouth after they parted, unable to stop grinning once she pulled away. The usual fire of confidence that burned inside of her was dancing all over, going crazy over the dirty blonde and her blue jumpsuit, the sequins dazzling in the light of the disco.

She tasted of hope and  _ Red Bull _ .

That taste still lingering once the girl had pulled away, scanning the room in a panic and turning back to Monet. She wasn’t a mind reader but she knew something was wrong.

“I have to go.”

The words pierced her skin like an arrow, shot from the closest range. Monet should have been okay, she knew it was unrealistic to think that the girl would invite her back and she’d spend the entire night in her arms. Yet all she wanted was to wake up in a big four-poster perfectly entwined with her body. Generally, Monet thought of herself as a rather chill person, not letting much get under her skin, but the thought of leaving without this girl's _ Snapchat _ made her stomach tighten just enough.

She watched as she pulled out her eyeliner and scribbled, unable to read the scrawl properly in the darkness of the club, knowing she’d have to wait until she was home to read it properly. 

Monet could still feel where the girl had squeezed her hand minutes later, standing alone for a moment to take it all in before starting a mission to find her friends.

It didn’t take long. Within thirty seconds of looking she could already see them, their own circle formed in a less busy area of the dancefloor, Asia pretending to make it rain whilst Monique and Anthony took turns in the middle, splitting and kicking to the pop track playing as though they were in a fight for their lives.

She wouldn’t change her crazy group of friends for the world.

“Hey girl,” Monet placed her hands on Asia’s shoulders, unable to keep the ‘I’ve just pulled a really fit girl’ grin off her face.

“She returns!” Monique screamed over the music, still focused on dancing and managing not to miss a beat. “You look like you’ve had fun.”

It was rare that Monet spoke to Monique about any hookups, keeping that part of her life a separate entity in their friendship, shutting her friend down whenever she asked any questions about it. In her home there was a fine line between what was discussed and what was not, Monet sometimes struggling to remove that division when she hung out with her friends, afraid that she’d only open the box and release more creatures than intended. Afraid Monique would realise how she truly felt. 

Only this time it was different; maybe she was still reeling from the kiss or maybe it was the vodka, but she had no problem telling her friends about the amazing girl she had just met, or as well as she could do given that they were in the middle of a dance to the death.

“Hey, Monique, why don’t you just do a cartwheel?” Anthony shouted to her, causing an eruption of laughter on Asia’s face and a contrasting one on Monique’s that only meant trouble.

“Do not encourage her!” Monet turned to her two friends trying to keep a straight face, montages of all of Monique's previous failed attempts flashing through her head. She pointed at her and raised her voice: “You cannot do a cartwheel.”

“But who said?”

“Jesus,” Monet shouted over the music, causing yet another eruption of Asia-laughter before the disaster struck.

It started off stronger than most of Monique’s previous attempts. Her hands touched the ground. Her legs went above them. Everyone managed to move away fast enough (this being the reason for failure for fifty perfect of said previous attempts). But it didn’t stay that way. Monet watched almost in slow motion as her arm buckled underneath her, bending in a way that arms shouldn’t bend, hearing Monique cry out in pain.

A cry of pain she could still hear hours later in their local accident and emergency, surrounded by bloody knees and gurning jaws, waiting impatiently for the imbecile she called her best friend to be released.

Normally people would wait until the next day to tell their friend’s “I told you so” in situations like this, but Monet wasn’t that humble, making sure to say it at least six times in the ambulance journey, then another seven to Asia and Anthony once they arrived in their Uber.

“But you have to admit I was winning the battle.” Anthony sat up on the waiting room chair and looked back and forth between the two girls. “She didn’t even know the words.”

Giving him a slap on the wrist, Asia’s motherly side came out, her nose scrunching in annoyance. “That is the last thing on my mind right now!”

“Monet?” He raised an eyebrow to her, avoiding Asia’s stern look.

“I don’t know, mate. I didn’t really see the entire thing, you know. Would be biased to judge from those ten seconds of failure.”

Monet immediately prepared for an ambush based on the looks on each of her friend's faces.

And ambushed she was, the pair of them forgetting their circumstances for a moment to ask Monet one hundred and one questions about her hookup. Only looking down at her hand to see a messy smudge of eyeliner instead of a name, Monet realised she couldn’t have given them valid answers even if she wanted to.

It would be her to find a girl so intriguing, a girl who made her want to dance all night and lose her the second the clock struck one-thirty. Her only glass slipper of hope turned utterly unreadable during the heat of their panicked ambulance journey.

Sensing upset in her face, Anthony grabbed Monet’s hand tightly. “Do I need to fight someone?”

But before Monet could begin to explain that her hookup needed finding rather than fighting, they were saved by a familiar cry.

“What do we think?” Monique began to shimmy towards the girls, her arm wrapped tightly in a cast, gaining the attention of every soul in the room (or at least the ones who were fully conscious).

Monet knew she should have been concerned, her friend could have been seriously hurt, but something about Monique’s grin as she danced towards them made her beam instead.

“Tens. Tens. Tens across the board!” She yelled as her friend pranced, resulting in the filthiest look from the receptionist, letting them know it was their time to leave. 

“ _ McDonald's? _ ” Monique looked back and forth between her friends once they had left the front doors, clearly unbothered by their haphazard appearances and the fact she had broken a bone.

The rest of the group didn’t even have to answer her question, simply beginning to walk in that direction without discussion, laughing like they had no cares in the world.

Only as the hours tipped on towards dawn and Monique reached out to hold Monet’s hand, it burned red hot where a pretty girl’s Snapchat username has been written. A face embedded into her brain that wouldn’t disappear no matter how hard she tried, a mystery left waiting for her to solve.

***

“Rise and shine!” Nina sang to her best friend, earning only a grunt in response.

“Why are you here so early?” Brooke winced at the sunlight seeping from her window, putting her hand to her throat and grabbing a glass of what she assumed to be water from the nightstand. 

Nina guessed by the look on her face after taking a swig that it certainly was not water.

“Because I didn’t want to miss breakfast!” Nina pulled a greasy brown bag from her backpack and waved it in Brooke’s face, who perked up as if by magic. “You should be grateful, I had a right hassle getting this! I nearly ran over some drunk girl with a broken arm just running through the drive-through away from her friends.”

“I’m eternally grateful.” Brooke budged along and patted a spot for Nina to lie next to her.

As much as she hated the drama of nights out and the pounding headache that stopped her productivity the next day, Nina had really missed hungover food and gossip sessions with her friends. It just wasn’t the same without them at Uni.

“So?” Nina looked at her friend, ready and eager to hear what had happened with Vanessa, taking a sip of her drink in anticipation.

“So…” Brooke trailed in response, raising an eyebrow to her friend.

“Did you and Vanjie talk?” Nina couldn’t wait any longer for Brooke to start, spitting her sentence out in one breath.

“Yes.” Brooke looked at her with a gaze Nina had never quite seen before, despite their years of early mornings and late nights of spilling secrets and stories. “But that can wait. What can’t wait is the fact that you managed to pull the girl you’ve had a crush on for ages. Let’s talk about that!”

“Oh. That was nothing.”

Nina was telling the truth. Or at least she was if nothing meant the best kiss of her life. If nothing meant that she could still smell Monet’s perfume when she was getting her breakfast that morning. If nothing meant that she went to bed grinning from ear to ear, the image of the girl pulling her closer a carousel running circles through her head. If nothing meant that every step she’d taken on her way home last night felt as if it were on air rather than the pavement. If nothing meant that she had finally felt like the protagonist of her movie, being granted a night of magic by some special force in the world.

“Nothing? Did you at least get her  _ Snap _ ?”

“Na.” Nina brushed her off.

It wasn’t a lie. Technically she hadn’t gotten Monet’s username - she’d given Monet hers. Yet when she woke up that morning she didn’t have any new requests. She’d be lying for real if she said her heart hadn’t plummeted. It was normal. It happened all the time. That’s what she always told Yvie whenever she was ghosted. Only Nina couldn’t stop the horrible feeling of a knife twisting into her heart that came whenever she checked her phone and saw no notification. She knew it was silly, that it was just a dumb kiss in the club, but she couldn’t help but feel stupid; like she’d been some sort of fool for believing something special had happened to her, a fool for thinking that confident girls like Monet who breathed fire would want to chat to awkward ones like herself who let themselves drown in rain.

“Well, you can just follow her on Insta then. I mean you stalk her enough anyway it’s about time.” Brooke pulled her phone to her face and started to type, a flurry of panic running up Nina’s spine. 

She knew that there would be no follow back.

“It’s fine!” Nina raised her voice almost too much, her friend flinching slightly at the volume. “Honestly Brooke, I just want to forget it.”

Nina knew she couldn’t forget it if she tried. She couldn’t forget it if she paid for someone to erase her memories like they did in the films. She couldn’t forget it if she was hit on the head a dozen times. 

She wondered if Monet even remembered it at all. Or had she just decided not to think about it, having probably done it many times before, something normal to her. Nina didn’t know which of these options would be worse. She guessed she would never find out.

“I’ll let it go if you give me the last bite of your bagel,” Brooke teased and Nina obliged (having lost her appetite to the wonderful diet technique known as anxiety anyways).

“Have you heard from Yvie then?” Nina asked, trying her best to change the conversation, to think of anything but Monet.

Monet and her kisses.

Monet and her voice.

Monet and her mouth.

She wasn’t very good at this.

“She texted me this morning,” Brooke responded. “Said she was sorry she left. She went for a wee and ran into  _ Ja’mie _ —apparently, we were gone by the time she got back.”

“Fair enough,” Nina smiled, knowing that she too was responsible for Brooke being left alone. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Brooke thrust her phone into Nina’s hands (who didn’t want to begin to question why it was sticky). “You can repay me by helping me type a text to Vanjie. How do you say ‘Thanks for looking after me in my drunken state, let's all go for food like old times sake then make up and have babies together someday’ without sounding  _ too  _ eager?”

Nina laughed at her friend and began to type into her notes, grateful that her A-Level in English Language had not gone entirely to waste.

If only she could use it to express her own feelings about a certain dark-haired beauty instead of those belonging to her best friend.

***

“Get up! You’re doing my shift tonight.” Monet’s eyes opened to the feeling of a pen smacking against her face, her older sister stood menacingly with another one in her hand, ready to be launched at any second.

“Erm, who says?” She sat up and looked at the time.

There was nothing like waking up past midday to really motivate her to work.

“I said when I picked you and your friends up from  _ McDonald's _ at eight in the morning. Or do you want me to tell Dad you spent the night in A&E?”

“Fuck," Monet thought to herself. Or maybe said aloud. She couldn’t really tell, too caught up in images of the night (or morning) before flashing through her brain. The memory of a still drunk Monique calling Bob and demanding she take them home from  _ McDonald's _ , running away from the rest of the group and into the busy drive-through when they tried to stop her. Sometimes it scared Monet how averse to danger her friend was, having willingly run in front of a beeping car despite her freshly broken arm just so she could beg Bob to save them a fifteen-minute walk. 

“Guess I’m doing your shift.”

Monet didn’t really mind that much, she liked working in her parent’s restaurant, finding joy in being able to chat to customers, recommending food and talking all things Caribbean. A big part of her thanked the job for her social skills, making her outgoing and confident when others in her year often struggled to speak to people. Yes, she often wished she’d gone to University like some of her friends, longing to bask in that fantasy of late-night shopping trips and early morning study dates. But she knew it wasn’t really her style, figuring she’d go full time at the restaurant until she found her true calling. Everyone liked to act like there were these big time limits on when everything had to be done but Monet knew they didn’t really exist.

Besides, her job meant she always had enough money to buy vodka  _ Red Bulls _ for handsome ladies in the club, one particular handsome lady coming to mind.

The smudge was still on her hand.

Some would probably tell her it was fate, that she lost it for a reason. That they wouldn’t have worked out. 

But Monet didn’t believe in all of that stuff. Monet was a fighter of fate instead.

Whipping out her phone, she  _ Facetimed _ her best friend, eager for help on her mission. She thought for a second that she should have called Anthony instead; after all, his eagle eyes knew the most about Monet’s love life. But a part of her just wanted Monique by her side, knowing that she’d never get over her feelings if she continued to isolate that part of her life.

“Hey, girl.” She answered on the second ring.

Normally Monet would have spent a moment or two thinking about how gorgeous her hair looked wet and slicked back or how perfect the purple of her dressing gown complimented her skin, how it hung on her body just right.

Only now her mind was overwhelmed with other thoughts.

“Do you know what page the club photos get posted on, from last night?” Monet asked her friend after a short while of broken arm-related discussion.

“Yeah, I’ll send you the link - but don’t be tagging me in any where I look a mess.”

“Thanks.” Monet flicked through the photographs, examining each one for a bundle of dirty blonde hair or sparkle of blue sequins. “I’m actually trying to find the girl I got with. Gonna see if she’s been tagged, yanno.”

“Oh.”

Monet stopped scrolling, letting the silence linger for a moment before speaking. “Oh?”

“Nothing,” Monique brushed off. “Just seems a bit extra, is all.”

“I just want to find her. Do you think I should post it on the Uni confessions page in case she goes there? Or what if I tweet it? Maybe a tweet is safer.”

“I swear you’ve never been this bothered about a pull before,” Monique laughed through the phone. A laugh Monet knew to be fake.

‘Because I normally want them to be you,’ Monet thought to herself but didn’t dare say out loud. Only not once during the kiss the night before had her mind strayed back to her best friend like it usually did. She didn’t know if that would ever find a girl to make her feel that way again, she wasn’t throwing it away. 

“This one's different, I’m confident about it.”

“Okay,” Monique smiled on the screen, raising her hands in the air in surrender. “But remember you were confident in GCSE textiles when you tried to make a children's dress from sponges for our coursework. Doesn’t always mean you’re right.”

“Don’t bring that into this!” Monet gasped, the attack on her garment cutting deep almost like an attack on her entire being, earning a chuckle from her best friend. “Imma get going, gotta shower and go to the shops before my shift but I think I’m gonna tweet it. Who knows, might see her again when we go out on Monday!”

“Monday? Bitch, I’ve got a broken arm.”

“You can still wiggle.” Monet winked at her friend before bidding farewell and hanging up the call.

She may not have had a glass slipper to try on every girl in town but she did have all the power of social media on her side, and that would simply have to do.

***

Looking around at the other girls as they made their way through the town centre, Nina couldn’t help but feel utterly ecstatic.

Things had been awkward at first - the lack of contact since the Brooke and Vanessa break up was a huge elephant in the room that no one wanted to address. However, as time passed the awkwardness began to melt more and more, Nina was excited to learn anything and everything she had missed out on whilst the girls were away at Uni. 

“It’s just down here I think.” Brooke squinted at her phone and pointed to one of the streets. 

“I thought we were going to the Lebanese,” Akeria stated from Vanessa’s side, earning a jab in the ribs.

“Scarlet doesn’t like it.” Yvie turned to face her. “Besides this place is really nice, I don’t know why we’ve all never been.”

“Probably because we don’t have the same taste buds as your highness!” Silky laughed, Brooke muttering some sort of private school girl gag under her breath too.

“You better not go on like that when she gets there!” Yvie shot daggers to the pair with her eyes, only making them chuckle even more. "If one of you even thinks about calling her that nickname you will be drop kicked."

It was safe to say Nina had missed their shenanigans, a part of her wishing she could rewind time back to when they went for food like this every other week. 

She’d missed Silky’s snide comments and Vanessa’s grunting laugh. She’d missed the way that Brooke and Akeria both clapped when they got excited. And the way Yvie tried to act all cool and hard in front of Scarlet but ended off turning into a soppy puppy everything she smiled anyway.

It was safe to say she was grateful to Brooke for organising their meal and catch-up. Not only was Nina getting to see the friends she had missed so much but she was also being distracted from refreshing her phone every five minutes, constantly disappointed when waiting to see if a certain someone had changed their mind and added her on Snapchat.

“Well, I’m excited to try something new!” Nina smiled at her friend, pretending not to be extremely anxious at the fact she couldn’t find a menu online so didn’t already know what she was going to order.

In fact, she still didn’t know what to order thirty minutes later once Scarlet had finally arrived, a round of drinks having already been devoured by the group, the range in the menu making her foot dance nervously on the floor below them. 

“You guys ready to order your food?”

Nina didn’t dare turn around, the discernable voice ringing behind her.

The voice she’d let whisper sweet nothing in her ears less than twenty-four hours earlier.

The voice she thought she would never hear again.

She looked aside to Brooke, a devilish grin on her face, clearly proud of her work as Fairy Godmother.

Nina wasn’t so proud.

Her leg began to shake more, placing her own hand on it to try and calm down.

She didn’t do hookups, they weren't the norm for her. She wasn’t used to just kissing someone in a club, giving them every part of her and more than acting like it was nothing afterwards. She didn’t understand how people just threw themselves all in and then decided it was nothing. There Monet was, most likely thinking that the whole thing meant nothing when it was filling the entirety of Nina’s brain. She was drowning in it.

It was like watching a gruesome video, Nina knew it would only end in tears on her behalf but couldn’t help but take a peek.

Only Monet looked anything but gruesome. Her hair slicked back into a ponytail, her face fresh, the end of the pen meeting her mouth as she took a break from writing.

Never in her life had Nina felt any inclination to be an artist yet suddenly she wanted to paint a portrait of the girl right there, her apron slightly stained and her hand showing the remnants of a stamp that hadn’t quite washed away.

Her hand that Nina had written on.

If Nina was drowning then Monet was on fire.

“What about you, Cinderella?”

It took Nina a moment along with an elbow from her right to realise Monet was speaking to her, just gawking at her like a kid in a sweet shop (Monet was probably a sherbet lemon, bright and fizzy right next to the till. She was more of a chocolate mouse, hiding on a shelf lower down).

‘Just ask what she recommends,’ Nina thought to herself, only the words never came out, her mouth opening and closing like a puppet she couldn't control.

Brooke went to speak for her but Monet was too fast, a superhero reading Nina’s mind and saving her from the burning building. “My favourite is the jerk chicken, with lots of gravy.”

“Perfect.” She managed half a smile, wishing Monet would speak for her more often. Wishing she’d speak for everyone in the world with her voice so lovely.

Nina felt Monet’s hand leave her shoulder as she walked away.

She hadn’t even felt her place it.

“Well, isn’t that a weird coincidence.” Yvie sipped from her straw and looked up at Nina despite the utter lack of liquid left in her glass.

“Seriously? I told you I wanted to forget it." She turned to face Brooke, giving the best attempt at whisper-shouting as she could.

“I know, I’m sorry, but if I told you you wouldn’t have come. You’ve fancied her for so long I wasn’t gonna let you just let it go.” 

“Did you ever think that I can make my own decisions, Brooke? You don’t have to dictate my life all the time. I look like such a freak now!”

“Hey,” Vanessa chirped in from the other side of the table. “Nina, she was just trying to help. I saw this thing on Twitter—”

“Scarlet, do you like Lebanese food?” Nina shouted over, interrupting Vanessa’s plea.

“Oh of course,” the girl responded, clearly unaware of the tension in the air. “My family visited the Zahriyeh beach resort last year and the food was to die for!”

“I’m going to the loo.” Nina stood up abruptly, almost knocking her chair over in the process. “Please don’t follow me.”

Making her way into the bathroom, Nina stared at herself in the mirror. 

She knew her friends only wanted what was best for her, that she shouldn’t have snapped at Brooke. She just kept reliving her awkward conversation, kept thinking about the add that never came through her phone and wished they would have left it be.

It was okay for Brooke, who had Vanessa and everyone else in their old sixth form falling around her. Or Yvie who had the quickest wit, unapologetically herself every minute of every day. They were the type of girls who people fawned over, who girls like Monet wanted to speak to. Not Nina West who couldn’t say the word “chicken” without having an aneurysm.

Trying her hardest not to cry, she almost jumped out of her skin when the door opened, expecting an apologetic Brooke with her puppy dog eyes to walk through.

How wrong she was.

“Oh, sorry.” Nina looked around and made her way towards the door.

“For using the bathroom?” Monet smiled at her, Nina left unable to think of a response other than the word sorry again. “About the other night—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Nina blurted, the fear of rejection injected into her bloodstream. She couldn’t bring herself to hear it, to hear Monet tell her that it was nothing or spurt some lie about losing her username. So she decided she’d do it herself, trying her very hardest to seem nonchalant. “We were both drunk, it was stupid.”

“Yeah.” Monet looked down at the floor. “No biggie.”

Nina missed her smile already.

Breaking a silence that felt like a lifetime, Nina released a breath. “I better go. Wouldn’t want to miss my jerk chicken.”

“Couldn’t have that.” She heard Monet’s voice tail off as she made her way back to the table, reliving their conversation for the entire meal - her mind lost in an alternate universe where the night before was the start of a new journey, rather than the remnants of one that never took flight.

Nina realised then how easier things were as the sidekick.

The sidekick never had their heart broken. 

***

Monet was ready to take everything she had previously thought about fate and throw it out of the window when she realised the mystery girl from the night before was sitting in the restaurant, sipping happily on a strawberry daiquiri.

Monet had never wanted to physically  _ be  _ a cocktail before in her life but that didn’t stop her from wishing it at that moment.

Asking their head waiter to give her the order instead, she counted down the seconds until their last friend arrived and she could go ask what food they wanted, slipping into her natural confidence and flirtiness, ready to have a daylight conversation with the girl from her late-night memories.

She was nervous again, awkward. Monet wanted to tell her to breathe and shake it off, settling instead for placing a hand on her shoulder whilst she decided what to order.

Normally when asked for suggestions, Monet told the customer whatever was easiest to make, or whatever was going to waste, never her real suggestion.

She gave it this time without prompt.

It was probably wrong to follow her into the bathroom but a part of her just couldn’t handle the anxious look on her face and wanted to tell her everything was okay.

Monet was never one to shy away for what she wanted, overly-excited that she had found the one that got away, thinking of how much the girl would laugh when she told her about her night, how she lost her username thanks to her stupid best friend’s gymnastics related delusions of grandeur.

Only she never got the chance.

“Don’t worry about it. We were both drunk, it was stupid.”

Monet knew she shouldn’t have been upset, it was the type of thing she’d said to many girls before herself. But a small part of her just wanted to crawl up in a ball and cry thinking of how wrong she’d been, of how badly she’d read their moment of passion.

Monique was right. She couldn’t wait to hear her ‘I told you so.’ Monet guessed things hadn’t changed at all, those few words throwing her back in the cycle she was in before. Maybe fate was a part of it after all, maybe this was simply the role she was dealt, no arguments, no compromises.

“Enjoying the shift?” Bob called on her way out, grabbing some tofu from the bench and shoving it in her mouth.

“Something like that,” Monet sighed, checking the clock to see how much longer she would be hiding in the back kitchen until she was free.

“Not like you to be in a mood.” Her sister looked her up and down, clearly sensing a change in disposition from her usually annoyingly vibrant personality. “You better put a smile on cause I know those girls out there, I reckon they’ll tip you if you're nice. They went to sixth form, used to host a lot of house parties.”

Monet was taken back for a second, laughing to herself at the thought that the girl she’d spent all day trying to find not only went to her old school but also knew her sister. She was starting to wish she’d looked beyond the three pillars of her best friends at sixth form and branched out that tad more, maybe things would be a lot different.

“Do you know the blonde one?”

“Brooke Lynn?” Bob asked.

Monet didn’t know how, but she knew that wasn’t right.

“No the other one. With the dumb smile.”

“Oh.” Bob realised. “Nina West. She was always real sweet, looking after her friends and cleaning up everywhere at parties. Awful fashion sense though, good god!”

Nina.

Nina.

Nina.

She could have said it again and again until it no longer felt like a name.

“Well, I’ll see you later.” Bob snapped her out of her daydream. “You out again tonight?”

“Nah,” she sighed. “Monday.”

All Monet wanted to do was get drunk and forget all about Nina and Monique and the thoughts in her head, desperate for the next forty-eight hours to whizz past her like lightning.

Only that didn’t really happen, Monet instead spending the entire time holed up in her room, letting the hours drag by until it was time to hit the club with her friends.

She wrongly thought that with every drink the name would slip out of her mind that little bit more, only it slapped her across the face every time she swallowed instead.

Maybe it was because she’d made the mistake of searching her. 

She wasn’t hard to find once Monet knew her name, coming up immediately with twenty-seven mutual friends. Scrolling through picture after picture of the girl laughing with her friends, something pained Monet in knowing she could no longer send a request. That her feelings were unreciprocated. She’d told the girl that their hookup was “no biggie” but there she was thinking about the photo she’d seen of her standing on the bridge in town and how she wished she could hold her waist while she stood there. 

Monet had a strong love-hate relationship with the internet.

One more shot and there she was again. 

Nina West, as vivid as a photograph in her mind, her foot tapping against the floor, her eyes a scene of bewilderment.

She danced to a song she knew and then again to the next until they were all blurring into one and she couldn’t figure out what the words were anymore.

Another shot.

She could see Nina leaving some coins on the table before she left the restaurant, her body something that could inspire poetry.

Just one more wouldn’t hurt.

“You wanna go for a walk?” She heard Monique whisper in her ear, snapping her back to the reality her brain was running from.

She didn’t have to say yes.

The breeze was bitter against Monet’s face as they left the club; Monique wrapped a jacket around her body for warmth.

“What about the others?” She turned back and stopped, feeling her friend's arm link into her own despite it being her only mobile one.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about them.” 

They walked for a while before stopping at a spot by the river, the moon glistening in the water.

Monet watched it flow in silence.

Normally she’d have been scared by the rustling in the trees or the darkness of the night's sky but those fears were lost in the moment.

“Are you really this upset about a girl you’ve known for a few days?” Monique’s eyes shone in the dark, pools of chocolate around her pupils. They kept Monet grounded. “She’s not even that pretty.”

Monet thought she couldn’t have been more wrong if she tried.

“You don’t get it.” 

“But I really want to.”

“It felt different, Monique. I never feel like that, I never get like this. It’s fucked me up. I’ve only ever thought anything like that about…” Monet stopped to swallow, deciding she shouldn’t carry her sentence on anyway.

“About me?” Monique whispered, holding her hand out to her friend, her glittery nails scraping the surface of the other girl's skin.

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me.” Monet pushed her hand away. “I don’t know, I just thought this was something telling me that things were gonna change. I was wrong, too confident. Like the sponge dress, remember.”

“They still can change,” Monique responded.

Her hand moved to the back of Monet’s head, falling down her hair.

She was hesitant at first, moving towards her friend, slow and steady.

Monet’s breath hitched just before their lips touched.

And then everything started to blur. 

Lost in the moment, Monet felt Monique's free arm move down her back, her own hands gripping tightly onto the hem of her top.

It was happening. She’d reached the pot of gold at the end of her rainbow. 

Only the coins weren't shining as brightly as they did in the fairy tales.

This is what she’d imagined for years, what she fell asleep thinking about.

So why did it feel so wrong?

Every movement flashed by in a second; Monet wasn’t  _ feeling  _ them.

She wasn’t feeling anything.

Then the image of highly arched eyebrows and dusty blue eyes made their way into her head.

Monet didn’t have to say it, feeling her friend pull away in the darkness.

“She’s got you bad, hasn’t she.”

“I know you’re just trying to make me feel better.” Monet ignored what she said about Nina. Their friendship was more important. “I know that you wanted to do that because you thought it’s what I wanted. And I did, by the way, think I wanted it. But I don’t. And even if I did, I don’t need you to make me feel better that way. I just need you to be my best friend.”

“I am,” Monique responded, her voice fighting against a brittle sound. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I’m always happy.” Monet smiled. It was weird how things seemed to make more sense rather than less when she was drunk. “I don’t need a girl. Granted, it’d be a nice bonus, but it doesn’t matter if I’ve got my best friends.”

Monique hugged her like she only had seconds to live.

Yes, Monet wanted Nina. She wanted her more badly than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

But she needed her friends.

“Let’s get you home and never speak of this again, then.” Monique smiled, holding out her hand yet again.

“Agreed.” Monet clasped it around her own, her balance still off-kilter from all the drinking.

At least she didn’t have any shifts to cover the next day.

“Except when you admitted you were wrong about your sponge dress.” Monique grinned. “That, I will never let go.”

***

Nina had just about managed to ignore Brooke and Yvie’s texts about their meal turned ambush. Of course, it was difficult, she’d even written some stuff in her notes that she wanted to chat to them about once she wasn’t mad, having started typing to Yvie about a question on  _ Pointless  _ before remembering she was supposed to be shunning her.

Except Brooke knew her weakness. 

Nina could never hold her poker face against a smirking Vanessa Mateo.

“You’re here before me.” Nina stood in awe at Vanessa, a half-drunken hot chocolate and a plate of cookies in front of her. 

When they went to Dublin for a long weekend before everyone moved away, Vanessa had slept through her alarm and nearly missed the flight, spending the entire trip borrowing belongings she’d forgotten from the rest of the girls.

She’d be late to her own funeral.

“Of course I am. Didn’t want to miss out on any of my quality Nina West time.” She grinned and pushed the plate across the table, motioning for Nina to take a seat. 

Nina loved how easy things always were with Vanessa, finding admiration in the way she never complexified her emotions.

It seemed odd at first when Brooke fell for her. She remembered being told about the night they met, going into every detail about how intense and annoying Vanessa had been as they searched for her phone. It always made Nina chuckle remembering how casually Brooke had added “and then I kissed her” to the end of her thirty-minute rant about the girl. 

She’d always pictured Brooke with someone who shared some of her qualities, a little cynical, a little stubborn, surprised that she’d date someone so full of energy. But the first time she saw them together she knew that Vanessa was her perfect complement. 

It just made sense.

“So, are you gonna tell me why Brooke Lynn really sent you here?” Nina asked after twenty minutes of Vanessa’s intricate questions about her degree.

“She didn’t ask me.” Vanessa held her hands up and pouted her lip. “I know why you’re mad, we shouldn’t have meddled. I just thought I’d show you this.”

Nina didn’t know what she expected to see on Vanessa’s phone but it certainly wasn’t a tweet from Monet, dated the day of the meal.

_ “This is an urgent PSA: To the girl with the pretty eyes and sparkly jumpsuit I got with last night, I’m sorry I lost your snap. Hit me up so I can buy you another vodka Red Bull and put your dancing to test again x.” _

Nina was glad Vanessa was there to pick her jaw off the floor and attach it back to her face for her.

“I saw it that day and showed Brooke. I honestly thought it was the right thing to do.” Vanessa held a hand out to her, warm and honest.

“No, no. It was.” Nina read the tweet for what might have been the fiftieth time since she’d seen it. If she wasn’t so shocked she probably would have signed herself up for the  _ Guinness World Record  _ for fastest reading. “I fucked it.”

“You can always pop up now?” Vanessa suggested.

“I can’t. I was so rude Vanjie, I read it all wrong.”

“So make it right.”

Nina grabbed her own phone for a second before placing it back on the table. “If I was her I’d ignore me.”

Maybe the fairy tales just happened to the princesses because they took chances, they didn’t let fear get in the way. They never told the prince that their feelings were nothing, a mistake. They were unashamed of how they felt and never afraid that it wasn’t returned.

Maybe that’s why Nina had always been the sidekick.

“Well, you don’t know you well enough then ‘cause the Nina I know wouldn’t ignore someone.”

She hated when Vanessa was right.

“Either way, I should probably go talk to Brooke and Yvie. I feel so bad!”

“Don’t change the subject,” Vanessa caught her out. “I think they understand. Besides, those two are gonna be there for you to message and kiki with as much as you like for the rest of your life. Do you really wanna go back after Easter and let this girl forget about you?”

Maybe it was Vanessa who should go for some sort of world record instead. Nina would have put money on a successful career for her in motivational speaking.

Cinderella wouldn’t have even made it to the ball had the fairy godmother not given her a gown and slippers.

All that Nina needed was to borrow her friend's confidence for a night.

“I guess a message wouldn’t hurt.” Nina pulled out her phone and opened her notes, ready to type.

“As long as it’s not seven pages long like the ones you help Brooke write to me!” Vanessa leaned over and squinted at the phone.

“You know I do that?”

“You might as well wax seal them with your initials, bitch. Sometimes I’d rather she just trusted herself though. Like I’d rather have her tell me ‘Vanjie, I’m a dick but I love you’ full stop than all that poetry bullshit. I don’t know why she thinks she needs to sound all like you.”

Nina chuckled to herself for a moment, thinking of all the times Brooke had handed her a written message to Vanessa and told her to make it “more meaningful.” 

She’d always envied Brooke in many ways. But she never really stopped to think that Brooke might have just envied her too.

“Noted.” 

A notification flashed on Nina’s screen, her fingers automatically pushing it away so she could carry on drafting her  _ succinct  _ message.

“Wait, who was that?” Vanjie tapped the screen with an acrylic.

Pulling down the notifications bar, Nina’s face scrunched for a moment as she processed what she saw, looking up and making eye contact with Vanessa when she read the message.

Maybe they’d have to call Brooke to pick both of their jaws up from the floor at that point.

***

_ “The trailers are gonna start in a minute! Where you at??? x”  _ Monet sent her third passive-aggressive text to her friend in a row.

She cursed under her breath, figuring it would be her best friend to convince her to get dolled up to go see a movie and then be late. She’d even begged Monet to walk further to the hipster cinema where you rented a sofa instead of seats - Monet having the entire one to herself for the time being.

_ “They’re on for thirty mins anyways. Whereabouts you sitting so I don’t have to scramble in the dark? xoxoxo” _

Hearing a tut from behind her, Monet replied quickly with her location before putting her phone back in the pocket.

Normally she’d feel weird about being at the cinema with just Monique, sharing a sofa together in the most classic of date settings. Only now she didn’t, something about their kiss wiping away her feelings, picking up that “what if” she’d always had and sending it away down the river they had laid by. 

Maybe it would make their friendship that tad stronger.

Just not strong enough for Monet to deal with being abandoned in a cinema. That would need a lot of forgiveness and grovelling.

A glimmer of hope dazzled before her when she heard the door close, making out a figure coming her way before realising it wasn’t Monique.

At least she wouldn’t have to share her nachos.

“Sorry, this seat’s taken,” she called out as the girl made a beeline for her sofa.

“I know.”

Monet could make out the blue of her eyes in the dark room, the cream jumper she wore complementing them perfectly.

This time it was her struggling to find the words as Nina perched her body onto the sofa, her knees tight together, arms smoothing her skirt and hugging her knees.

“I saw your tweet,” she whispered, looking straight ahead at the screen rather than at Monet.

“I thought you thought it was nothing, you were just drunk.” Monet didn’t even try to pretend she was looking at the screen too.

Her heart was racing. Her entire body on fire.

“I spoke to your friend too, she told me you’d be here.”

“Oh.” The frames began to merge together in Monet’s mind.

“I was just nervous to say it before. But that feeling you had, I felt it too.”

Monet placed a hand on the girl's knee, noticing how her foot was starting to bounce.

She never wanted to take it away.

“I-” Monet started her sentencing only to be shushed from behind.

“We have to be quiet,” Nina whispered.

Monet moved towards her, their lips centimetres apart.

She looked at Nina and could have sworn she saw the flame that was burning in her chest in the girl’s eyes too, lighting up the darkness around them.

“Well, let’s stop talking then.”


End file.
